Ellinger: Yeah, that’s gotta hurt.

Sandler: So I’m just sayin’, I want to feel my way carefully with this. I got bills too.

Ellinger: Okay. I just need to know you’re not fucking around with me. Right?

Sandler: No, man. I’m not.

Ellinger: I just need to know.

Sandler: I told you. You don’t have to worry about me.

Ellinger: Because there’d be a shit storm, you started fucking around with me. And it wouldn’t be just me, right? Mrs. Gorkin, those little darlins of hers, you don’t want to go pissing them off.

Sandler: No, for sure.

Ellinger: You hot?

Sandler: Huh?

Ellinger: You hot? You look hot. You’re all sweating, like.

Sandler: No, I’m good. Listen, I’ll let you go. I got stuff, you know.

Ellinger: I’ll make the call. Maybe tomorrow. Okay?

Sandler: Yeah, good. That’s fine. Whenever.

That was it.

I listened to the entire exchange a second time. I had to hand it to Sandler. It was good stuff. I could see the entire conversation, reprinted nearly word for word, at least those that the Metropolitan would print without dashes, as a sidebar to a main story. People love reading those kinds of things. Brings a story into focus more quickly than a lot of exposition.

I’d have more questions to ask him the following morning when we met in Bayside Park. I decided, for safety’s sake, that maybe it was wise for at least one more copy of this audio file to be out there, so I forwarded it to Lawrence Jones, marked it “FYI” and included a short explanatory note. Lawrence does a lot of surveillance work, and might have some words of wisdom on just how incriminating this exchange was for Frank Ellinger.

I exited the mail program and decided to give the shower another try. There was enough hot water. Just.

Paul was home shortly before four, and Angie appeared not long after that.

“Why don’t you guys go out and get some dinner, give me and Mom some time alone tonight,” I said. “Things have been a bit rocky lately, and I’m hoping maybe I can smooth things over a bit now that this whole Trixie thing is over with.”

“Okay,” Paul said. “But we’re going to need some cash.”

I dug a twenty out of my wallet and handed it to Angie, who was closer. She examined the bill in my hand. “Is this some sort of a joke?” she asked. She had that wry look in her eye, the one that said You know I’m kidding, right? I dug out another ten and handed it over. “I suppose we’ll be able to get something with this,” she said.

“Jeez,” Paul said to his sister as they walked away. “I thought twenty was good. Nice going.”